


The Lucky One

by ByTheDawn



Series: Stolen Moments [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/F, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByTheDawn/pseuds/ByTheDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Work based upon the gorgeous fanvid '<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCCraahzj4c">Once Upon A Time // Daughter - Youth</a>'. Written to the song of the same name because I still have so many feelings about 'Going Home' that I needed to at least do <i>something</i> with them.</p><p>Regina goes back to her dark castle in the realm of the Enchanted Forest, realizing that without her tethers, she will soon revert to nothing more than what she was: broken and hurtful. It is her greatest fear, but one she has no way of stopping alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lucky One

The silence refused to be disrupted as she moved through the tendrils of fog that partially obscured the black castle from view. It was a daunting sight, but Regina had always been home here. Back then, the stone had been as cold as she had made her heart, and now the cold was equally haunting—caused by her own hand once more, but for entirely different reasons. Before, she had been angry, and self-destructive, and thoroughly played. This time, she had been loving, and selfless, and while her hand had been forced, she had made the most of an impossibly terrible situation. 

When the cure had been broken, she had found herself again in one of the elaborate outfits of the Queen, and she had not remembered them being so restrictive. It cut her in all the wrong places and accented parts of her person—not just her physique—that she no longer wished to accentuate. She remembered her outfits to be empowering, and she had worn them like armour; now the dress curved around her frame felt like a cage. She felt like it did not belong, even though it poured about her person like a glove. _She_ did not belong.

The door opened silently at the magically powered touch of a hand, and swung wide to reveal dusty stone and gaping loneliness. The spacious hall was too large, the dark walls to constricting. Stepping onto the cold marble and feeling more than hearing the door swing shut behind her was like stepping into the den of a dragon; dangerous and final. There was no returning from this place, as this was the place she always returned _to_. 

Numbness clawed at her heart like an old friend, offering a promise of soothing nothingness that had served her well in the past. Yet, with the numbness came anger and hate, and memories that would consume her. It brought with it hands crushing hearts, death warrants signed, torture committed, and decades of emotional abuse at her hands, suffered by the people she had slowly allowed to become closer to her than she had even imagined they could be.

If she allowed the darkness again, she would lose everything she had; even though between the loss of her son, her Savior, and her abusive friend—the only one in the world she’d had—she had lost all but a few fragments of a life lived in pain already. She had been here before, at this point in her life, but she had been young then. She had not understood the forces at play. She did now, but that gave her little solace. 

Her son was gone.

He was out of her life forever.

And the pain would not stop.

It would never stop.

With a sob that Regina barely managed to contain, she rushed forward, her long dress dragging patterns into the thick layer of dust and grime as she moved forward into the structure. There were very few things more reckless as chasing visions of the future—especially when there was no conceivable future where ‘happiness’ was a part of her life. Not when there was no hope for a reunion with her son. Not when Rumpelstiltskin was dead. Not when…

They had brought her home, Snow White and Prince Charming, in a white carriage that had been pulled by four equally white horses. It had clashed with her mood so deeply, she had barely spoken throughout the journey. She had no way to cope with this weight, and no reason to object to being transported—even though she could have transported herself here in moments. She had simply wanted to delay the inevitability of solitude as long as she could. She had scoffed at the few words of consolation bestowed upon her by Charming, and had accepted Snow White’s silence, drinking in their presence all the while. They were hurrying towards her doom, and they all knew it. They also all knew there was nothing they could do about it; this was the way this world worked. She belonged in the black castle, banished and alone. It was made law, and it was a straw to grab hold of towards normalcy. As if that word had any meaning left after going ‘home’.

The doors to her old bedroom opened with an equal silence to the front door. Regina had come to count on it by now, and in a way the stillness was comforting. It reminded her of death, of the promise of nothingness, of relief. And so she walked carefully on boots whose sounds were already dampened by an unwanted carpet made of broken promises and past malevolence.

She stood in the single space that had offered her consolation once, and felt nothing but pain and fear. She was terrified of going dark again, of losing the frail grasp of her humanity she had fought for so hard—because this time, she did not have a reason to fight. Her son was gone, and he had taken his other mother with him. Between the two of them, whatever good had been in her heart had gone as well.

Perhaps she should just end it here, now, before she lost control again and caused pain to those she at least cared for now but would surely forget caring about before long. Even now, she was heaving through corrupted lungs, spiked by sullen air and burning with grief, and she could feel the magic at her fingertips, leaking out in a desire to destroy—to make those around her understand the depth of her pain—like she had always done.

It had never been about her happy ending; it had been about a fresh start without the disadvantages placed upon her in her youth and then enforced by her own actions. She’d had that—or at least a glimpse of it, in a glorious vision so powerful she could still feel it overwhelm her. Flashes of a life shared with the woman she could no longer deny her searing feeling for, raising Henry, and finding a way to heal the scars from the past. All that remained of that now was a memory, burning inside of her skull and hurling her towards her undoing.

“I thought you might be here.” The soft voice fractured the stillness with such force that Regina jumped, spinning around in anger. Mary Margaret—Snow White—stood in the door opening with tears in her eyes. She refused to budge in the face of Regina’s anger, not even as the latter snapped at her with blazing eyes and wicked tongue.

“Don’t you dare sneak up on me ever again!”

Yet, what Regina was saying was _I thought you left me here? How did you get in? Why did you come back? Did you come for me? Would you ever? Did you sense I needed someone? That I needed you?_ Snow seemed to understand, though, and she smiled lightly—a watery affair that never reached her eyes.

“You don’t have to stay here, Regina. I know you think you do because that was the old way, but things have changed.” Snow side-tracked, not backing away in the face of Regina’s defence mechanisms but stepping forward into the room that had once been Regina’s inner sanctuary but what was now the lifeless heart of a once-grand castle. Regina watched her get closer. They both knew that there was only one ‘thing’ that had changed—or more accurately, that had changed everything—but neither of them could speak her name. Not here, not now. Not when the loss of both the Savior and her son was still so fresh. Regina averted her eyes, backing away from a confrontation with her step-daughter, her former nemesis, another mother, grieving. 

“I don’t belong anywhere else.” She admitted roughly, feeling her clothes settle better, feeling their comforting tightness settle solidly around her. She fixed strong features on the woman before her, still not used to the long hair that once again clung to Snow’s skull, but feeling the more familiar feelings of cruelty towards her slip back into her heart and mind. It was so easy to let the darkness back in; not feeling anything but that burning passion was infinitely more preferable than feeling this crushing despair that made her want to scream, or crush someone’s heart, or fling herself off of the balcony so temptingly close. Death was preferable to losing everything—again. It would be a welcome end in the face of a life without Henry. Without… Emma.

She hadn’t even realized she was actually staring out over the railing of the balcony until a warm hand settled on her arm with the lightness of a feather. She yanked her arm back before her flaming eyes even settled on Snow, who flinched but did not step back out of her space. She just held up her hands in a placating gesture that Regina scoffed at but could not cross with violence or abuse. The darkness had not overcome her so completely yet.

“You _do_ belong somewhere else.” Snow assured her, dragging her back to a conversation so full of holes and pain that Regina had almost forgotten all about it under the weight of her own dark thoughts.

“Travel home with me; live with us. No one was closer to—to _them_ than you. It would mean a lot… to me and David… if you would come.” Snow’s voice was so much like that of the cursed version of Mary Margaret that Regina briskly wanted to write the proposal off as untrue, unwanted. Yet, the eyes that searched her own were all Snow’s—full of intelligent defiance—and the promise of a home away from the darkness was too tempting to pass up. Redemption had felt good while it lasted and she was so tired, so raw from the experiences of the last few weeks. Her loss was too great to carry alone, and Snow carried a burden of equal proportions. They would make each other miserable, or—perhaps, if they were both lucky—they could make each other stronger. They could shoulder the weight together.

“Say you will, Regina. Please.”

She held out a few seconds more, scanning Snow’s eyes for any sign of betrayal, dishonesty, or a will to hurt. She found none. All she found was pain that mirrored her own so well. Regina realized there was only one possible answer—a single alternative to the scenario she had envisioned earlier. She swallowed with great difficulty, then spoke, her voice dark and rough, but laced with gratitude and relief she could not contain.

“Yes.”

_Please._


End file.
